Autobot's Guide to Human Recreation
by Kisu Pure
Summary: Movieverse. Short stories documenting the Autobots trying their hand at a few of the humans' favorite recreational activities. On haitus forever. :I
1. Billiards

_Lesson 1: Billiards_

* * *

"Hey hey hey!" Fig broke out in his distinctively Latino accent, nearly stabbing Will in the eye with the end of his cue stick. "You gotta call it, man." 

Lennox almost jumped up when the thing came at his face, but he rolled his eyes instead and sighed dramatically as he bent down again to take the shot. "Eight ball corner pocket," he stated flatly. After a moment of anxious silence, Will pulled back his arm, and with a sharp crack, hurled the cue ball into the eight, sinking it into the pocket he designated for it. He special ops captain, now in civilian dress, rose up to look at the pool table, empty except for a single ball. He grinned to himself.

Fig slammed his stick into the concrete floor of the Autobot's new (and rather messy) headquarters in a comical display of frustration. "A'ight, man. How 'bout best two out of three?"

"Nah," Will said, picking up a beer that was resting on a lawn chair some feet behind him and taking a swig. "Told the wife I'd be back for dinner."

Fig casually shot in his last ball, then stood up again. "Aw, c'mon captain. Just one more game." He already began picking the balls out of the pockets and rolling them onto the faded green of the billiard table.

"Yeah, yeah, alright. Just one more." He reached for the rack that had been set beside the beer, and flung it to his friend. Fig began to arrange the balls in the plastic triangle.

Just then, a car pulled into the driveway and slowly motored into the warehouse. It only took a single over-the-shoulder glance for Lennox to recognize the expensive yellow vehicle. "Hey Bumblebee," he said.

Fig was about to break, but the Autobot, now transformed in the privacy of the warehouse, walked over to the pool table. "What's this?" He knelt down in the slightly playful way of his and studied the arrangement.

"Oh, we moved the billiard table in here today. I've had it in storage for years, and Ratchet said we could put it in a corner of the building." Will raised his voice here so the medical officer on the far end of the compound could hear. "Isn't that right, Ratchet?" All they received in return was something akin to a grunt. It seemed that he was preoccupied by some mechanical gizmo and didn't even care to turn around. Will chuckled.

Bumblebee nodded. "Yeah, but what is it?"

"Well it's a game," Fig said with a shrug. "You gotta hit the balls in the pockets by hitting them with this white ball here."

"What are the sticks for?"

"You hit the cue ball with the stick."

"Here," Will said, holding out his cue stick to the robot. "Wanna break for us?"

"Hmm..." Bumblebee carefully took the thing from Lennox and studied it for a moment. "Sure!"

"You break 'em like this." Fig made the proper gesture on the table for example. "And you gotta hit 'em hard or else they stay clumped together."

The yellow Autobot nodded and squatted down at the far end of the table. He took careful aim, drew his arm back, and brought it forward.

Balls went flying everywhere.

They made a horribly loud clattering noise as they hit the concrete and bounced, scattering about the place.

"Hey!"

"Whoa, man!"

Fig's mouth dropped open a little as he glanced about the area. "_Híjole, cuate!_ When I say hard, I didn't mean _that_ hard!"

The commotion attracted Ratchet's attention. "Bumblebee, you'd better not be making a mess of my warehouse."

The comment was ignored as the two humans began to search for the balls among the various piles of scrap metal and whatever else the heck Ratchet had acquired over the past few months. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" the young bot plead with the two soldiers as he got down on all fours to help look. Much to Lennox's relief, however, the balls were found and returned to the table. He huffed a bit as Fig set the rack.

"One of these says," the captain said, pointing at the yellow Autobot. "One of these days I'm going to teach you how to play this game."

"Who's breaking this time?" the Latino asked.

Will walked over to the end of the table and took aim. "I will." He moved the stick back and forth as it rested on his thumb a few times, making sure to land the shot smack dab in the middle of the ball, and with another crack, the cue jumped up before spinning off, barely grazing the back ball. "Dammit! How the hell did I scratch?"

"You forget to chalk?" Fig nudged the small blue square resting on the edge of the table.

Suddenly, the three turned around when they heard Ratchet walk over. "Give me that," he said, taking the cue stick from Will. Without so much as a single second of hesitation or any heed to his audience, he carefully plucked up the chalk, rubbed the end of the stick with it a few times, crouched down at the end of the table, and broke. Three striped balls were pocketed on the spot. Ratchet stood up and handed the stick back to Will, who stared at the table, mouth open.

"_That's_ how you break."


	2. Paintball

_Lesson 2: Paintball_

* * *

Today was a boy's day out. Will, Fig, Epps, Sam, and even Miles had all gone out into the hills for a game of paintball. The drive was a good half hour, but it was totally worth it.

Sam had previously introduced his quirky friend to the idea of the Autobots, and couple that with the knowledge of the Mission City disaster that the government scrambled to cover up, it didn't take much convincing or therapy for him to accept it with little more than a shrug. Besides, having a team of special ops guys as friends was not something that he would have been able to explain without going into the whole robot thing.

"I'm going to get owned so badly," the blond whined as he thumbed the straps of his mask.

Sam came over with a grin on his face and gave him a good slap on the back. "Well, yeah. If you stand around and complain, of course you'll be an easy target. Now put on the mask and load up."

Each of the guys had different colored ammo: Sam had red, Miles had pink, Will had green, Fig had orange, and Epps had a bright blue.

Will tied a bandanna around his neck so he wouldn't get burnt in the California summer sun. "You two are with me," he said, gesturing to the pair of boys, who in turn walked over to their new teammate.

"Hey!" Sam called out to Fig and Epps as they headed away into the rocks to secure themselves some kind of cover. "Hope you guys brought ice packs for the welts you're gonna have when this is over!"

Epps laughed. "You watch what you say, man, 'cause we're the ones that actually know how to shoot!"

"I, uhm, I think he's right," Miles said.

Will chuckled, ushering the two boys to head on over to their rock outcropping. "Hey, don't forget I'm on your team too. Now move it or we're sitting ducks just standing here." The team maneuvered behind their starting point, and Will crept up to peer over the top. "We ready?" he shouted. The other team called back from their start about 60 yards away. "All right, let's go!"

The captain was first to creep out from behind the rocks, walking in a crouch behind another boulder for protection. Sam was making his way around the other side, and upon catching a glimpse of Epps, darted behind some sagebrush. He looked sidelong at Miles, who was still cowering behind their initial pile. "Come on!" he shout-whispered. His friend inched slowly in his direction until they heard shots being exchanged. Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine! Stay there!"

The brown-haired boy peered around the brush to see green spatter on Figs' arm as he jumped behind some rocks. But somewhere between the sounds of the freeway about a mile away, Sam could discern vehicles approaching where they were parked. After a moment of listening, Miles heard them too.

"Great!" he huffed. "I'll bet it's the cops, man."

"Look, I don't think we're doing anything illegal here. If we clean up when we're done, it should be fine." Sam jumped when a blue paintball flew past his face and exploded on a rock in front of him. "Shit!" He whipped around to see Epps closing in, but he headed for cover as soon as Sam turned around and fired a few shots, and managed to get him in the shoulder. Unfortunately, the only hits that counted were on the torso, from the waist up.

Sam heard Will shout a "surrender!" from somewhere; he probably had Fig. Just because they were playing a hard game of elimination, that didn't mean they weren't playing with courtesy rules. The surrender rule was to prevent more experienced players from sneaking up on newbies and shooting at them point-blank, but it really benefited everyone, seeing as how no one likes to be shot at point-blank.

"We'll just keep playing , and if it is cops, they'll stop us when they stop us," Sam said to a panicking Miles. "Let's go get Epps." He moved out from the cover of the brush, marker held up offensively. He looked around, saw Fig shooting at Will out of the corner of his eye, but Epps was nowhere to be found. He decided to risk a few seconds on some high ground to look around. Just as Sam was clambering to the top of a rock pile, though, he was shot in the back of the arm, and the spatter was black. Who had black paintballs?

"Sam!" shouted Miles. "Two of your friends decided to join us!" The blond boy scrambled over to Sam's rock pile, and he turned around. There stood Ironhide. Sticking out from each of his arms was a 5-gallon water drum, filled to the brim with paintballs, and the cannons were trained on the two boys. Beside him stood Bumblebee, a single 5-gallon reservoir protruding from his arm cannon. Both of them had big, robotic smirks on their faces.

"Surrender!" Bumblebee said.

Sam hissed. "Oh shit... Miles, find cover!" The two of them leapt off the pile to the other side, a barrage of paintballs scattering about them. The robots laughed. "Will! Fig! Epps! We've got company!" Then: "Come on, we've got to regroup."

"Dude, no way! I don't wanna be covered in welts tomorrow, you kidding?"

"Don't be a quitter, Miles!" With that, Sam jumped up and darted through the rocks and sagebrush as fast as he could to get within a decent range of the other guys. Yellow paint splattered all around him, before he was hit twice in the rear. "Real funny, Bumblebee!" he shouted at the top of his lungs before ducking behind some other rocks, right next to Fig.

"Did you invite those guys?" he demanded.

"No, I didn't invite those guys!" Sam flinched as black paint spattered a nearby rock.

"Will!" Fig shouted. "Epps! Change a plans! Five of us against those two!"

Sam was huddled up and scowling. "Augh, Ratchet's gonna get it for fitting those two lunatics with five gallons of ammo..."

Will came rushing over to their little hideout, covered in black and yellow paint. "Christ," he said, panting. "I'm going to be one big bruise tomorrow!"

Sam looked around. "Where's Miles and Epps?"

"I think your wimpy friend surrendered already," Will said, checking the ammo on his marker.

"Yeah, probably." Sam could hear one of the Autobots come closer. "What's our objective at this point? It's obvious we're playing a different kind of elimination now."

"I say we go for their faces," Fig piped in. The other two nodded.

Sam was about to add in a little tactical input, but Bumblebee was standing over them and the three guys scattered. The boy managed to wedge himself between two rocks pretty good, while Bee was distracted by Will and Fig. It was now or never. Taking careful aim from his shadowed crevice, Sam landed three shots to the back of the Camaro's head.

"Hey!" Bumblebee whirled around and playfully shot in Sam's direction, getting him once in the leg. Sam scrambled out of the gap and sucked behind another rock when his guardian came walking over. "Come out, come out..."

From what the boy could see, Ironhide was having a blast shooting at the others. Neon paint of a rainbow of colors littered his black body like some god-awful Pollock piece. "Surrender!" he heard the trigger-happy Autobot shout, and in no time, out stepped Epps and Will, markers raised above their heads. Ironhide laughed victoriously.

Bumblebee was drawing nearer, cannon raised. "Come on, Sam! How many times do I have to shoot you in the aft to get you to surrender?"

Sam sighed and stood up, hands held up high. "Fine, fine, you got me. Next time though? Pick on someone your own size."

Grinning, Bee lowered his arm and called out over his shoulder. "Hey 'Hide! I think we won this game!"

The two 'bots herded the five of them (Miles had indeed surrendered a while back) into something resembling a semi-circle. "Better luck next time, humans," Irohide said with devious mirth. Sam looked sidelong at Will, and gave a small wink. Will nodded slowly. As if on cue, the four of them (excluding Miles, of course) opened fire at the Autobot's faces. The captain laughed just as maniacally as his truck had done. "How's it feel to get pelted by something one eighth your size!"

"Ackthpth!"

"Raaghspth!"

The two Autobots staggered backward in momentary disorientation as the four humans emptied their reservoirs at them. "C'mon!" Will barked, still laughing. "Get to the car! Get to the car!" His good humor was contagious, and it seemed the whole group (...aside from Miles) burst into adrenaline-charged laughter as they made a break for their safe haven parked about 20 yards away.


	3. Racquetball

_Lesson 3:Racquetball_

* * *

"You know Sam? This is actually kind of fun."

The sound of the small blue, rubber ball against the concrete walls of the partial court made silly sounds.

"You say that this activity improves 'hand-eye coordination' and reaction rate?" The boy turned around to see Ratchet holding one of the balls between his fingers like a human would do with a large pea.

His high school campus was completely empty at this time of night (aside from them of course). And what exactly were they doing playing Racquetball? It was not a sport that got any media attention, and hardly anyone played, but thanks to both his dad, Sam found himself playing a few rounds with Mikaela.

"Or for you... uh, reinforce the... programming responsible for your... motor skills... yeah I don't know."

Ratchet and Ironhide looked at each other and began to laugh.

It really had been his dad's fault for this situation. Then again, Sam was enjoying himself, though for some reason he wasn't going to admit it as easily as his girlfriend. Mikaela had been over for dinner once when the old man had started talking about how he used to play the game often in college, and even won several tournaments. (The trophies were stored away in a box in the basement.) Sam could have cared less, really, but Mikaela showed considerable interest. Enough, actually, to warrant his dad to bring out the equipment afterward.

The rackets were smaller than those for tennis, and his dad's set were old, though by no means cheap or in poor condition.

"Why don't you try that?" Mikaela pointed to a volleyball stuck on the roof of one of the buildings. "Might be more to scale for you two."

Ironhide stepped over to the two-story wall and plucked the ball from it's lodging on the roof. He gave it a small squeeze, and when the thing didn't pop or deflate, he walked back over to his partner, ready for a game. "Much better," he said in his gravelly voice. Ratchet tossed the rubber ball back to the two in their court. "What's the point of this game again?"

"You take turns hitting the ball against a wall, and it's only allowed to bounce once. You're supposed to use rackets, but... You'll have to make do with your hands."

The two 'bots walked away from the basketball court they were occupying and headed over to a section of school that provided three walls. Sam and Mikaela returned to their game.

For a while, it was relatively quiet, and the pair of humans might have actually forgotten they weren't alone until they started to hear voices from somewhere nearby.

"Hey! You can't do that, you slaggin' cheater!" one voice snarled.

"Don't blame me for your underdeveloped response rate," laughed the other.

The first one growled. "Shut up and serve."

Sam and Mikaela halted their game to listen as the two Autobots tore at each other in the throes of competition. After a few moments they started to laugh.

"I wonder if Hide's still bitter about losing that paintball match?" she giggled quietly.

Sam scoffed and smiled widely. "That was a month ago-" He was cut short by a crash from the direction of the two mechs.

Ironhide's laugh reverberated throughout the campus.

"Oh you'll regret that."

The humans set down their equipment and crept over to the robot's game. They darted over to the end of the racquetball courts and peered around the corner: there they were, two giant robots completely occupied by the prospect of victory, and, as Sam had witnessed was a favorite among them, bragging rights.

Sam had to wince at how hard they were hitting the ball, how aggressively they angled their shots to try and make the other miss. Every once and a while, one of them would get in real close to land a very soft hit, causing the other to dive forward, hitting the ground with quite a bit of noise, in order to get it. That was usually the cause of their vulgarities.

Unfortunately, as the game progressed, the boy began to notice that they were tearing up the concrete on the ground. "Hey!" he shouted to get their attention. "Hey you two! I think it's time to head back... you're messing up the pavement."

Both Autobots paused just long enough to look at him from over their shoulders: "Not until we've settled this."

"Serve, you overgrown toaster," Ironhide grunted.

Ratchet chuckled. "Eager to lose, I see."

"Careful, or Optimus is gonna have to get himself a new medic."

"Ooh, I'm shaking in my boron compressor."

"SERVE!"

The ball smacked the wall again and again and again and the two of them went head to head. It was a very heated battle, and Sam wondered how long the loser would hold his grudge.

SMACK.

Ratchet hit the ball sharply to the side with an open palm, and Ironhide shoved him aside to dive at the ball, which he hit down hard. It shot up in the air and the medic jumped up to lay the smackdown

THWACK.

Ironhide struck low, making the ball shoot far back past Ratchet's feet, and consequently, his hand as well.

"Frag!" He hissed. Sam could see the doc bot scowl.

"Hah," Ironhide boasted. His optics brightened with victorious hauteur as he rested his hands on his hips. "Best three out of five, I win."

Ratchet looked at him with loosely masked animus. Without taking his eyes off his comrade, the medic morphed his arm into a cannon, and shot the volleyball in its resting place against a chain link fence. The ball was gone, there was a huge hole left in the fence, and the concrete was blackened.

"Oh look who's bitter!" The warrior taunted. Sam rolled his eyes. Ironhide was a good, fun friend, but he was also a sore loser and a sore winner.

Ratchet, surprisingly, didn't storm back over. He seemed to have his calm, collected demeanor back as he casually put away his weapon.

"Are you guys done bickering?" Mikaela chuckled. "We should go." She started back to where they'd been playing to put away their equipment.

"Yeah, when the school sees this next week, they're going to throw a shit fit."

Ratchet looked sidelong at his companion, still basking smugly in his victory. "Right, right." He was about to transform, but paused and let devilish grin spread on his mechanical face. "Hey Ironhide, how about a game of pool when we get back?"

* * *

_**A.N.-** Thanks for all the reviews, kids! Can you tell who my favorite is out of the group, yet? And also: FIG SURVIVED IF I SAY HE SURVIVED. HARUMPH. Jazz's death doesn't keep people from writing about him post-movie, amirite? Fig's no different. _


	4. Pictionary

_Lesson 4: Pictionary  
_

* * *

With the army guys gone for the month, it was up to the normal civilian kids to entertain themselves on this hot and muggy afternoon in a not-so-normal and civilian setting. Ever since they purchased the land and warehouse with the heaps of money they'd gotten in government compensation (read: a keep-your-mouth-shut bribe) for the Autobots, Sam and his friends were beginning to take the place over, much to Ratchet's chagrin. Though while Sam had a feeling the medic didn't actually mind that much, he was still careful to take no more than 400 square feet of floorspace. After all, the bots needed a heck of a lot more room than any human. 

It was a getaway space, really. Furnished with couches left out on curbs, Lennox's pool table, Epp's dartboard, a ragged refrigerator, and and old TV, it was definitely Sam and Mikaela's home away from home.

Today, though, there were several floor fans invading the space as well, trying to keep that corner of the facility no warmer than 95 degrees. Their job was made slightly easier with the help of ice-cold cans of coke.

"Uhm, it's a bookshelf... a ladder... a, uh... a bunk bed."

Maggie was doing her absolute best to try and decode the scrawl of horizontal lines, arrows, circles, and a few other stray marks that littered the whiteboard. A few seconds later, and the space was filled with the buzzing of a timer.

"Oh!" Sam called out, a grin on his face. "Time's up guys."

Glen angrily capped the dry erase marker to throw it at him. He turned to his friend. "A canopy bed! It was a canopy bed, Maggie!"

"How was I supposed to get 'canopy bed' from that mess of lines?"

The young man stormed back over to his obvious failure armed with pointer finger. "See? These are the posts. These are the people sleeping in the bed--"

Mikaela laughed. "All right you guys. Calm down. It's our turn."

Sam stood up and erased the black mess. He drew a card from the box, looked it over for a short second, and cursed under his breath. Glen and Maggie laughed at Mikaela's expense. Sam shot a look at them. "Kay shut up you guys." He thought for a moment, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, then nodded. "Alright, start the timer."

Mikaela started blurting out nouns almost immediately. "Flagpole... flag... uh, tree... park... forest! Trail! Mountains... wilderness... ah... hiker! Hike... walk..." she paused when her boyfriend scribbled a symbol over the stick figure's head. "Ah! LOST! He's lost!"

"There we go!" He capped the marker, tossed it to Glen, and high-fived his partner.

There suddenly came some low, powerful laughter from not so far away. It was accompanied by heavy footsteps, and everyone turned around to see Optimus Prime walking over. "Enjoying your 'rec room' I take it?"

"Oh yeah," Sam said. "Thanks again for letting us infest this corner over here."

Glen and Maggie sat there, staring at the coffee table in front of them, deliberately averting their eyes from the gigantic robot behind them. It was quite obvious that they still weren't used to the whole idea.

"Don't thank me; it was you who purchased the property anyways." What would have been a smile crossed Optimus's intricately mechanical facial features before he knelt down to get a better look at the purpose of the gathering. "Might I ask what you are doing?"

"Oh, it's just a little game of pictionary. Care to join us?"

Glen and Maggie flinched when Optimus knelt in closer.

"I don't think you'll be able to draw anything, but it seems their team could use some help, so you can do guesswork with them." The boy pointed at his now disgruntled friends sitting adjacent from him.

"Don't worry about me."

"Make sure he doesn't go probing the internet for answers, Sam!" Ratchet called out from the far end of the space with audible mirth. The humans laughed. Upon a close inspection, one might have thought the leader of the Autobots rolled his optics in response to the medic's warning.

Glen looked at the young woman sitting next to him. "You're up, genius."

She shot a look at him and stood up. "Glad I don't have to draw a canopy bed," she muttered after drawing another prompt. Uncapping the pen, she set to work. Sam and Mikaela sat back to watch the inevitable lulz.

Glen started shouting things out almost right away. Prime was silent though, hand cupping his chin as he studied Maggie's frantic scrawling. Honestly, Sam couldn't make heads or tails of her diagram.

Just as the timer was about to go off, though, Prime spoke. "A human metacarpal."

Everyone was silent, mouths open. But suddenly Sam jumped up. "There is no way you could have known that," he said, confronting the alien that was ten times his size. "Since when have you studied human anatomy and memorized all the stupid little scientific names for everything?"

"Are you implying that I cheated?" He blinked his optic sensors, and they made a small clicking sound. Glen and Maggie were still dead silent, but now Mikaela was trying her best to keep herself from laughing.

"Yeah," Sam said, nodding in that nervous way of his. "Yeah I am."

Optimus Prime looked at the boy for a moment; everyone held their breath. He got off his feet, and eased back on his rear with a heavy rumble. "What makes you think that I cheated?"

Sam jumped right back into it with a jumble of words. "How did you know what a metacarpal is? I don't even know what a metacarpal is. Well actually I did, but that's because I'm a nerd and no one, unless they're a doctor, or unless they look things up on the internet, knows that a metacarpal is. And seeing as how you're not a doctor, I think I can safely assume you looked it up on the internet."

"Does my rank as Autobot leader and life-debt to you mean noth--"

"No, it doesn't mean anything. If you cheat, you're a cheater. And I don't play with cheaters."

Glen risked a word to his partner. "I think he's bitter that he's gonna lose if the bot's on our team," he whispered.

Mikaela snorted out a laugh, meriting a glare from Sam. "Alright. You know what? There's only one way to resolve this," he said. "Ratchet! Get over here! You're on our team."

The medic waltzed over and stood next to Prime, who was still sitting on the ground. "Hm, what's this now?"

"If they get a cheater on their team," the headstrong boy said, nodding in Glen and Maggie's direction. "We get one too. Sit down and get comfy."

The two mechs exchanged looks, and knew exactly what the other was thinking: It was going to be a long game.


	5. D&D

_Lesson 5: D&D_

* * *

Maggie sat at the dining room table, slumped and running her finger around the rim of her coffee mug idly. There was nothing before her but a sheet of paper, pencil, and an elaborate set of dice. Across the table sat Glen, and on either side were two of his friends. Glen was prattling on about something that would have taken far too much effort for her to care about; something about the abandoned Elvish garrison they'd found themselves in. After not listening for the better part of five minutes, her phone began to vibrate in her pocket.

It was a text from Jazz: _hey r u going 2 b much longer?_

As much of a sweetheart he was, Maggie was irked by the Autobot's affinity for sending texts in extreme shorthand. The young woman rose from the table, glad to have an excuse to get a breath of fresh air. "My ride's here already... I'll be right back."

She escaped the roleplaying session and headed out the back door to the driveway. There stood Jazz, hidden from view of the street by an enormous boganvia and a few Ficus trees. The screen door slammed shut behind her and Maggie remained standing on the landing, hands in her pockets.

"I'm sorry, Jazz, but you should go. He's blackmailed me into playing D&D. Flee while you still can."

"What's D&D?"

"You don't even want to know. Look, I'll see you later at the warehouse?"

"Sure thing, Mag." With that, he transformed back into the Pontiac, and Maggie went back inside. Jazz, however, didn't leave right away. He was doing a bit of internet research from the driveway. What he found though, only left him questioning the psychology of humans even more than before.


	6. Action Flicks

_Lesson 6: Action Flicks  
_(For Speechie42 on LJ)

* * *

"You guys don't mind a little noise, do you?"

The evening was wearing on and Bumblebee had just picked Sam up from work with Mikaela. He was holding a small, flat plastic container in his hand, and waved it at whichever Aubobot chose to listen.

Ratchet, always the curious tinkerer, had found himself a new toy to dismantle and study. The prospect of distraction didn't seem to go over well with him. "What kind of noise?" he asked suspiciously.

"We're gonna watch a movie, and it has to be played at a stomach-rupturing volume or else we won't be truly experiencing it in all it's manly glory."

Mikaela, standing next to him rolled her eyes.

Ratchet cocked a metal eyebrow. "You and your race never cease to confuse me. Why would you ever seek to enjoy yourself in obviously detrimental ways? Human audio receptors are not easy things to repair, so I read."

"I don't mind, Sam," Bumblebee piped in. "What movie is it anyway?"

The boy held up the plastic box. "Oh, just that new James Bond movie. Mikaela hasn't seen it yet."

"_Knock yourselves out_," the medic said, returning to his prodding at some large, complicated, mechanical device. Sam had to stifle a giggle every time Ratchet used English colloquialisms.

"Bumblebee, you want to watch it with us?" Mikaela asked as they walked over to the TV.

The mech followed gingerly. "Sure, so long as it's not like that last one you watched... _Clueless_."

"Hey! That's been my favorite movie since I was like, eight. Of course it's cheesy."

"And that," Sam interjected, slipping the disk into the DVD player. "Is precisely why we're watching _this_ movie: two hours of explosions, knife fights, gambling, and hot women to compensate."

Mikaela shot him a look before settling next to him on the couch, with Bumblebee right behind them. Sam hadn't forced any of the bots to sit down and watch any gritty movies yet, and thought Casino Royale wasn't the grittiest movie ever made, it was a good means of introduction to other films he might someday choose to watch with them.

"Wow," Bee whispered when the black and white beginning was over and the opening credits started rolling. Sam knew that this movie was taking a lot of risks when it came to the Bond series, but it was being reinvented for newer audiences. That didn't mean to say that he didn't enjoy the golden oldies, but he liked this one. Quite a bit.

It was in the middle of the intro when Jazz and Ironhide drove in, transformed, and stepped over to where the trio was indulging themselves on the movie.

"Hey guys," said the solstice, leaning in extremely close. "What's crackin'?"

Ironhide studied the TV screen for a moment before deciding that he found it interesting. "Guns," he grunted. "I approve of this movie." Following that, there was the distinct sound of two vehicles settling down on their huge, mechanical, behinds to watch.

"It's a 'James Bond' movie," Bumblebee informed them. How much it actually meant to the mech was a completely different matter; however, he still said it with the same enthusiasm.

Sam turned around in his seat, still laughing at 'Hide's declaration of approval. "James Bond is a household name," he said. "He represents everything us guys appreciate in life."

"Deactivating Decepticons?"

"High grade?"

The boy considered this with a nod of his head. "Or, well... yeah, sure why not."

The girlfriend turned about. "Shut up, you guys," she said straightforwardly. "I can't enjoy the movie if you don't keep your vocal processors off." The latter was said with a grin.

The boys looked at each other with raised brows and fell silent lest they dare endure female scolding.

-----

Sam honestly could say that watching an action flick with a bunch of cars (even Ratchet's interest was piqued when Bond was poisoned) was far more fun than watching it with a bunch of humans. Jazz loved the score, Ironhide loved the fights, Ratchet loved the defibrillator, and Bumblebee loved Bond's car. The entire group burst out laughing when he adorably mentioned thinking the vehicle was hot, and they did so again when its getting totaled left him heartbroken.

"See?" the boy said, standing up and stretching. "I think it's safe to say Bond movies have something for everyone." Then he turned to Mikaela. "But most importantly, did _you _like it?"

"You know," she said, cupping her chin. "It was a lot better than I thought it was going to be."

"Yeah, it's grittier than the others. Definitely a different tone..."

"Grittier?" Bee asked.

"Oh yeah. James Bond is kind of known for his gadgets, and the only one in this movie was the defibrillator! In the others, he's got all kinds of awesome, secret-agent gear."

"Aw, hell yeah!" Jazz exclaimed. "Sam, you better bring more of these over."

'Hide smiled. "I'll string you up by your metacarpals if you don't."

"I hope you know that it would be nearly impossible for you to do," Ratchet said flatly.

The hulking metal soldier groaned. "It was a joke, Ratch."

"You're not even funny."

"Do you want to see these other films or not?"

"...yes."

"Then shut up."

Ratchet shoved Ironhide aside and knelt in front of Sam. "I'm amending his initial threat: if you do not forfeit more of these James Bond movies in due time, we'll stuff you into one of his cannons and shoot you through the front window of that Blockbuster over on Pine to get you started. I also demand to see these 'gadgets' of his that you brag about."

"All right, all right, all right!" Sam said, holding up his hands. "I'll rent another one tomorrow. Christ you guys are crazy." He muttered the last bit. He glanced up to see the Camaro staring off into space, and decided to intervene. "Uh, Bee? You alright there?"

The Autobot jerked himself out of whatever strange daydreams robots have, and cocked his head at the boy. "Oh, sorry. I was just looking up pictures of that car to save onto my memory banks." Everyone laughed. "What? Come on, you _know_ that vehicle was sexy too..."

"Looks like we've got a fanboy," he said to Mikaela. "You know? I'd like to see how he reacts to The Fast and Furious."

"I don't think we'll have time for that," she laughed. "Because apparently we're going to get skinned alive if we don't play the entire Bond series for these guys before the week is over."

"Good idea." The medic nodded, and stroked an invisible metal beard on his metal chin. "But I think I like my idea better."

* * *

_Note: Starting with this chapter, this series is now based entirely on suggestion from reviewers.  
Keep sharing ideas, and I'll give credit to the ones that I chose. Thanks guys!  
_


	7. Camping: Day 1

_Lesson 7: Camping- Day 1  
_(For Streakychan on deviantArt)

* * *

Convincing Optimus Prime that he was just too damn big to go with was not an easy task. 

"People just don't use big rigs to go camping in. It's just something that _doesn't happen_. In fact, they probably won't even let us past check in if they saw a hulking, flaming truck pull up. I'm sorry, but you can't go."

Convincing Ratchet that forgoing proper shelter for a few days of being dirty and cold and sleeping on the ground was a valid means of fun for many people was also not an easy task.

"Why? First of all, as much as it may surprise you, us humans like to get away from a good majority of technology that dominates our lives. Some of us like to play in the dirt. Eat undercooked meat prepared over a poorly-built fire. Or have stiff necks and aching backs from the terrible sleep. It's just what some of us do. And moreover, it's fun. Come on, say it with me: f-u-n."

And convincing Miles, for the umpteenth time, that Sam and Mikaela's giant robot friends were real, and going camping with them, was the most difficult task of all. (Perhaps not as difficult as getting Sam's parents to let him go camping to begin with, but that's neither here nor there.)

"Look. No, look at me. Bumblebee is coming because he's my car. Jazz is coming so he can haul our stuff. Neither of them are taller than 15 feet in robot mode, dude. They're not gonna shoot things, and they're not going to make any sudden movements. The only thing I'd suggest is to stay downwind of them because they can smell fear. Oh, come on, man! Don't walk away! I'm just bullshitting you! Miles! Mi... aw, forget it. He'll come around."

And so, before any of them knew it, Sam, Mikaela, Miles, Bumblebee, and Jazz were off to spend the next four days in the closest remote place they count find: the desert. Home only to the most hardy of adventurers, dune buggy racers, ATV riders, and other assortment of crazed outdoor sportsmen, it would be a welcome vacation for the youngsters; not to mention relatively easy for their accompanying bots to escape the drudgery of their vehicular modes at night.

The drive hither was relaxing. At least it was for Sam and Mikaela; Miles spent the entire time quite unsure of where to sit, careful not to touch anything as he was quite convinced that he was setting his ass down on Bumblebee's innards or something. Fortunately (for everyone else), his anxiety gave way to laziness, and he eventually fell asleep, with not just his ass on the Autobot's guts, but his head, side, and dirty shoes as well. Jazz was following close behind, packed to the rim with camping equipment. They'd almost piled it up behind the wheel too, but was comically reminded that other drivers might find it odd to see a Solstice being driven by a pile of blankets and an ice chest. Sam could see his sharply dressed holoform in Bee's rear view mirror, rockin' out to the radio for the duration of the trip.

Just as the boy had anticipated, the campground was nearly empty. They checked in and selected a spot as far from everyone else as they could, sending Jazz to investigate the various campsites that were only represented on the sheet by circles and numbers. In no time at all, they found the perfect one. Tucked away in a corner of the campground, it included a good portion of the hillside it backed up against, and the surrounding area would easily accommodate their larger friends.

The two teenagers that were still awake leapt out of the car and proceeded to stretch. "Man, it's hot out here," Mikaela said, walking over to the Pontiac. "Jazz, pop the trunk?"

Sam opened the passenger-side door and caught a sleeping bag as it fell out. "Of course it's hot. Welcome to the desert?"

The two of them were unloading their gear when an acute scream sounded from inside the Camaro. The door clicked open on its own, and Miles came tumbling out, white as a sheet. Bumblebee started laughing. The poor boy scrambled over to his friend, shaking and folding his scrawny arms across his chest in a poor attempt to regain his composure. "Dammit," he said, his previous pallor quickly turning a beet red. "Tell... tell him not to do that! That wasn't cool, dude! Not cool at all! If you wanted to wake me up guys, all you had to do was like, kick me or something!"

Sam screwed up his mouth in attempts to fight off a wide grin at his friend's expense. "Bee, what'd you do to him?"

The yellow car rose up on his shock absorbers. "I just blasted the A/C and started to lower the front seats back on him. Nothing too traumatizing, honest!"

Miles let out a startling and rather comically loud huff. "Like I said: not freakin' cool! I thought he was eating me or something!"

Mikaela burst out laughing alongside both Jazz and her boyfriend. Sam lightly smacked his friend upside the head. "Stop being such a pussy, Miles. Now help us unpack."

Jazz had music playing the whole time, and Bee occupied himself by turning his front wheels in time with the beat as the two Autobots watched the kids partake in their odd human rituals. Miles was having an extremely difficult time with his tent while Mikaela set up their food situation, beating back ground squirrels that got a little to close to their boxes of non-perishable goods. The two Autobots had a good time scaring away squirrels as well.

When their site was set up and ready to be lived in, dusk was on them. Seeing that no one had taken spots anywhere nearby, Jazz and Bumblebee thought it safe to transform quietly and crouch with their humans by the fire.

"What are those?" the Camaro asked, pointing at the sticks they were holding over the flames. One little pustule caught fire and Miles removed it, waiting for it to go out, and popped the charred, gooey mess into his mouth.

"Yfu meanf fif?" he attempted.

Jazz nodded. "Yeah. What are they? They don't look like no regular food you guys eat."

"'Course not!" Sam stated with fidgety smugness. "They're marshmallows. Made of air, sugar, glue, and awesome." He reached into the bag and shoveled three in his mouth. "Anf fey're finur."

"Nothing like piles of junk food to replace a perfectly good meal." Mikaela said with a grin, reaching for a box of graham crackers and package of slightly melted Hershey's chocolate.

Bee blinked his blue optics. "Ratchet says that 'junk food' is bad for you, though. Won't it affect your systems? I mean, in a bad way?"

"Bah," Sam said, waving at the robot dismissively. "Sure it will. But the stomach aches are totally worth it."

"Turn the music down!" Came a man's shout from a few campsites away. Everyone fell silent and glanced at each other.

Jazz lowered his head, and made the robotic equivalent to someone clearing their throat, before shutting off his radio. "Sorry, guys."

"Weh fat waf roo," Miles said, mouth full of marshmallows.

Sam set down his roasting stick and fumbled around in his pocket. "Well, we aren't supposed to be playing music after ten... what time is it.." The boy's face was soon illuminated by the blue glow of his phone. "Wow, it's already a quarter to eleven?"

"Aw, slag," Jazz said, sitting down on his behind instead of crouching. Bee followed suit. "If we can't listen to music, what're we gonna listen to?"

Sam and Mikaela thought. Miles continued to stuff his face.

"I know! Dude, how about some ghost stories?"

The two humans cocked their eyebrows. "Ghost stories?"

"What are those?"

Sam turned to the Autobots. "You know, scary stories and such. You guys probably won't find them scary at all though."

"Well neither will we," the girl said flatly.

"Oh, come on. Humor me guys. I actually know some pretty good ones from my short time as a boy scout."

Mikaela snorted. "You were a _boyscout_?"

"All right, it wasn't the most memorable time in my life, but I did learn a few handy things. Are you going to sit here and make fun of me, or can I tell some stories?"

The two kids laughed. "Go right ahead."

"Good," Sam said, picking up his marshmallow stick and sticking another half dozen on there. "Aight. I'm going to start off with the story of the **Windigo**..."

* * *

_Keep on with the suggestions! Note that Lesson 7 will be in four parts, though. Thanks kids!_

_Also, I'm really starting to like Miles as a character. He's like, that friend everyone has that fails at everything, and the group only keeps them around for comic relief. Something like a Karen the Douchebag, but more... a Miles the Epic Fail.  
_


	8. Cable Television

_Lesson 8: Cable Television_

* * *

While the humans were out, as well as Jazz and Bumblebee, things around the warehouse grew a little dull for the 3 remaining mechs. It wasn't as if the rather giant and eye-catching vehicles could leave and explore the city streets whenever they wanted, so they sought to entertain themselves with what they had.

Ratchet made it his priority to learn more of Earth culture, and so turned to the television that Sam had set up in his corner of the facility. Moving the couches aside, the doc bot sat himself down on the concrete and remotely turned the primitive piece of technology on. He was immediately bombarded by images of a young female human hidden under the brim of a baseball cap and behind large, dark glasses as she did rather mundane things. Holding a bag of comestibles, exiting a vehicle, walking with a small canine on a woven tether. Why was she an individual of such importance? Bah, humans were so confusing at times.

"Ugh, that Britney Spears creature again? Change the channel, would you?" Ratchet turned his head to see Ironhide standing behind him, rotating the barrels of his canons like he did when he got fidgety.

The medic gestured at the diminutive screen. "You're familiar with this human?"

"Yes, and she's no better than a bag of spare parts. I've got no clue as to why the humans pay so much attention to her. From what I understand, she hasn't done a damn thing worthy of praise in her whole slaggin' life. Here. Put on ESPN."

Ironhide switched the channel abruptly. Ratchet now saw a field of green, with small white figures scrambling across it, tossing a brown dot between them. He heard the topkick take a few excited steps closer when the lumbering soldier leaned in over Ratchet's shoulder.

"Ah!" he grunted. "Who's playing? Chargers and the Patriots?"

Ratchet let out something similar to a groan from his vocalizing unit before changing the channel to something more worthy of his time: Discovery Health. A small smile formed from the mechanical bits of his visage.

"Hey!" 'Hide exclaimed. "I was watching that!"

"The operative word in that sentence is 'was'. Now you're watching brain surgery."

The screen changed back to the football game with 8 seconds on the clock, causing Ratchet to scowl. It abruptly turned back to the surgery. Then back to football. Then back to surgery.

Ironhide stood up and pointed one of his canons at the medic accusingly. "I hope you can knock dents out of your own aft!" he growled. "Because you'll have plenty if you don't let me finish the game."

Ratchet just remained where he sat, and looked nonchalantly at his companion's canon, hot and a few feet from his face.

"You're not actually going to shoot me for not wanting to watch your mindlessly aggressive sports, are you?"

He remained as he was, and narrowed his optics at the old medic dangerously. "You never know," he growled.

It was a staring contest for a few moments. Air intakes were silent, leaving only the raucous cheering and thunderous footfalls of the humans on the TV behind them, and the gentle hum of even the mech's slightest movements.

Ratchet's optics narrowed into bright blue slits and set his jaw unit in a display of tenacity. The channel jumped back to the operation.

"Why, you've got some titanium-coated ball bearings..."

The medic stood up, brandished his nested circular saw blade, and set it spinning at 3000 RPM. "Why, yes. Installed them myself, too."

"All right. Know what? Let's take this outside. Winner gets undisputed control of the television for the duration of Sam's absence."

"Oh, you are most definitely on."

But suddenly, the channel changed without either of the influence. They shut up for a moment and both turned toward what was now displaying on the screen.

"_Like sand through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives..._"

"That's where it's going to stay if you can't decide on what to watch, you two." The unmistakable voice of Optimus Prime filled the space. His subordinates looked his way to see him shaking his head.

"What?" they blurted out in unison. "NO!"

Ratchet and Ironhide proceeded then to change the channel at whatever cost. So panicked they were to get away from that daytime soap opera, that before long sparks began to erupt from the back of the cable box and the TV screen filled with white snow.

The two of them stood there, staring at their fine handiwork. Optimus chuckled to himself. "That's more like it."

They were silent for a while after that, looking forlornly at their weapons before putting them away.

"I, uh..." ventured the medic. "I better get started on fixing that before Sam gets back."

"Er... that might... be good," mumbled the truck. He thumbed in the direction of the warehouse door. "I'll.. I suppose I'll get to work on finding another television set so this, uh... so this doesn't happen again."

"Good... good thinking."

"Right."

"Well, I'll be getting to work now..."

"Yeah, I guess I'll be leaving..."

"I'll see you later, then."

"Right. Yes. See you later."

The two of them glanced at each other for a while. Neither of them actually moved a single servo.

"You know, this would not have happened if you hadn't insisted on ESPN..."

"Well, if you would pull that stick out of your tailpipe, you might've actually enjoyed the game."

"I apologize that pointless displays of aggression are not my cup of energon."

"Oh, and lessons on removing malignant growths on a body part that Cybertronians don't even have **is**?"

"I'm terribly sorry that the concept is beyond the likes of you, but that knowledge could potentially come in handy in a future cycle. Quite unlike the knowledge gained from a ballgame."

"I think that you're just bitter, because the last ballgame you played resulted in my kicking your aft."

"Only because you cheated."

"Oh! Pointing fingers, now?"

"I am not pointing any fingers. I'm merely stating facts. And the fact is that you only won because you cheated..."

The argument continued on for quite some time. Optimus looked on as they went back and forth at each other, laughing to himself as he went into recharge. There'd be slag to pay if they weren't quiet by the time he came online again.


End file.
